Open Door Policy
by FLG
Summary: Regina Mills wasn't someone that broke the law. She wasn't someone that got arrested. Except she did. She found herself in a minimum security prison, and not thrilled about it. Except, one thing, specifically one person, had potential to thrill her. Too bad it was the prison director.
1. Chapter 1

AN: I'm being incredibly stupid and starting a new story when I have too many others to finish. But, I'm on summer vacation, so hopefully I can catch up. This one shouldn't be too long, possibly on five or six chapters, but then again, sometimes I get going more than I expected, so who knows. I've been watching Orange is the New Black and Wentworth, and this idea wouldn't stop bugging me, so I decided to go for it.

Regina's POV

"Mills. Keep up." The over starched uniform shifted on the petite frame of the unfamiliar guard as she gestured forward. Of course, all the guards were unfamiliar, as it was my first day in R. Freemen Penitentiary. Forcing myself to match pace with the small woman, I continued to scan my new residence. The walls seemed just white enough, the floors just shiny enough to pass as decent, and the smell only churned my stomach for the first few moments. The inmates, or rather, fellow inmates milled around me, some interested in me, some not. "You seem surprised by the other women." The guard commented knowingly, not really paying attention to my reaction, "They're not too bad. This place is pretty quiet. I mean, there's the normal drama that comes from a bunch of women being cooped up together for long periods of time, but not much violence or anything like that."

I rolled my eyes behind her back, and readjusted the bulky bundle in my arms. I may have been new to the prison, but I somehow sensed she had little to no clue what actually went on within the walls. She seemed nice enough, though, so I let it slide. I didn't care to know much about the others or the institution, I was there to serve my time and leave. I wasn't even particularly nervous or scared about being there. An astonishing and suffocating numbness had settled over me when the police showed up and read me my rights, and it never receded. All I could feel was empty.

"Ok, here we are." The guard knocked softly as I glanced at the silver plaque on the blue door.

 _Prison Director_

 _Ms. Emma Swan_

"Come in." The guard swiftly pushed open the door and waved me inside. As I listlessly shuffled into the room, the tiny brunette offered me a warm smile. Choosing not to return the sentiment, I looked toward the large desk to my left as voice greeted me, "Hi, you must be Regina Mills. I'm Emma Swan." The tall woman held out her hand. I slowly grasped the smooth palm as I took in the director. Her stark blonde hair sat high on her head in a tight bun, a few curls framing her face, and her emerald eyes seemed to dance as they gazed into mine. The dark grey blazer hugged her fit form, and the matching pencil skirt stopped above her knees, showcasing her toned legs. The button up, white collared shirt had one too many buttons undone, teasing just a breath of cleavage. I might have found her utterly and devastatingly attractive if she wasn't the face of my total loss of freedom. You win some, you lose some. Her eyes shifted back to the guard, "Thank you, Officer Blanchard." When the door shut behind her, leaving us alone, she flicked a hand to the worn chair, "Please, have a seat."

Sighing, I sunk down in the unfortunate chair, crossing my legs with a casual obstinance that tended to drive authority figures crazy. I may not have earned my reservation in a cell, but I wasn't about to play the innocent victim card, or cozy up to anyone. Studying my hands resting in my lap, I waited for her to say something. I needed a manicure. "So, I looked over your file...obviously." I quirked an eyebrow, she had better done more than just looked over it. I was her charge. Although, I didn't expect much from that fact. "Normally, I like to do a bit of small talk before delving into the boring stuff, but I get the distinct impression you won't be participating in that right now." When I only blinked in response, keeping my eyes down, she chuckled, "So, you're in for a ten month sentence for embezzling from the business you co-own with your sister, Zelena. It's a chain of restaurants in Massachusetts called _Wicked Eats_ , right?" When I offered a barely perceptible nod, she cocked her head, "Yeah, I've been to the one in Boston. Fantastic Mac and Cheese." Again, I gave her nothing, but felt a slight sting of pride. That one was my recipe. "Anyway, the accountant figured out that funds were missing from the company and it came back on you. I don't know who this Locksley guy is, but he's one sorry ass lawyer if he couldn't get you off...Especially, when it was obviously your sister that set you up." At this, I snapped my gaze up to hers, narrowing my eyes. No one believed that it wasn't me. All the evidence pointed to me, despite my protests to the contrary. "I see that you also have a few prior convictions on your juvie record for shoplifting, which helped the prosecution quite a bit." When I only stared at her in mild wonder, she tilted her chin up, "Let me guess, those were her too, right?" My breath caught as I considered how the hell she could know that. "Alright, you're not going to answer. Here's what I think. I think she's your younger sister." She was right. "I think she shop lifted from that bookstore and MAC outlet, but you covered for her and took the blame." She was right. "I think she embezzled that money and made it look like you did it." She was right. "And, I think your biological urge as an older sister to protect her means you'd probably always take the heat off her, even when it means time in jail." She was, unfortunately, right. A pen loosely twirled between her long fingers as she studied me. "I like that." She offered me a smile that felt as if it reached something inside me. I hated that. "And, I like that you're not sitting here blubbering about your innocence, despite the fact that your in the five percent that actually are." Another invasive smile.

After watching me closely for almost a minute, she sighed, "Well, this has been a lovely talk, but I suppose it's probably best to cut it short and I'll show you to your bunk." She stood from behind her desk and walked around, striding to the door. And, lets just say, I wouldn't swear in a court of law that I didn't capitalize on the opportunity to appreciate her form. In the five minutes I had known the woman, I determined that she was intuitive, optimistic, considerate, and beautiful. She intrigued me. But, I didn't have time for intrigue, so I hoisted myself up and followed her out, ignoring how our fronts brushed together as I slid out the door.

"So, this here is A wing. It has the cafeteria, small gym, library, and counselor's offices. Your counselor is Mr. Neal Cassidy. He's good. But, I want you to know that I have also an open door policy. If you need something, come see me, and I'll help you any way that I can." She had stopped walking and stood in front of me, gazing directly in my eyes. When I offered nothing to acknowledge her peace offering, she spun on her ass-complementing heels and continued down the corridor. "Wings B through G are dorms. You're going to be in C Wing, room 27. You'll have one roommate. Meals, work, and bed times are mandatory. I'll be giving you your work assignment on Monday. Be present for all head counts." As she continued her tour guide routine through the bustling prison, I looked around. A sea of women flowed around me, all shapes and sizes and backgrounds, but all clad in puke-green uniforms. It seemed strange how one insignificant detail, such as a set of shirt and pants, could create the illusion of equality and eradicate individuality. Unconsciously, I tugged at my own new wardrobe. The shirt fit loosely, and presumably did nothing for my, admittedly, impressive curves. My normally impeccably done hair sat limply in a ponytail, depressed by its lack of originality. Unremarkable boots clunked heavily, weighting my steps with unnecessary burden.

"Okay. Here we are. Your room. They stay unlocked most of the time." The director pulled open the heavy door, which had a smallish square window at eye level. "Hey, Bell, how's life?" She greeted the other woman casually, and almost friendly.

"Oh, you know. Glamorous and extravagant, as always." The young blonde smirked.

"Really?" Ms. Swan asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, today's Sloppy Joe's for lunch, so that's something." As they bantered in a way I found odd between prisoner and authority, I studied my new bunkmate. Her accent suggested roots in Australia or New Zealand. She stood a foot shorter than me, had dirty blonde hair pulled up in a messy pony tail, and bright blue eyes. She wore the standard green pants, but with a white tank top. Her arms were lean, and I could make out a tattoo on her right shoulder and bicep of something that appeared to be water and a ship, some sort of tribal tattoo around her left wrist, and a star behind her left ear. She seemed to nearly flutter around the room with distasteful energy, but somehow also held a stormy calm beneath the surface. Glancing toward me, she nodded her head, "So, who's the new meat?"

The director smiled at me, "This is your new roommate, Regina Mills. Mills this is Tanya Bell."

"Everyone calls me, Tink, though." The woman grinned and held out her hand.

I shook it briefly and couldn't hold in my necessary question, "As in Tinkerbell?"

Both blondes chuckled at my disbelieving candor, then the first blonde smirked, "So, you can speak."

"I'm frightened that you doubted that and still bunked her with me." Tink snarked to Ms. Swan, then turned to me, "Yeah, apparently I resemble a fairy and my last name is Bell. Not particularly imaginative, but it works. On that note, we all go by last names or nicknames, so until you're given a nickname, you will be Mills."

I nodded, then let my eyes roam the room, "Which one's mine?"

"That one there." Tink pointed to the bed on the right side of the room. "You get that small set of drawers/desk and that shelf. Bathroom's down the hall on the left."

"Tink's good people, she'll look out for you, show you around." The director said, leaning against the door frame.

"Ah, Swan, I'm touched. And, I assume you'll reward me for taking care of your girl." Tink winked.

"What makes you think she's my girl?" Ms. Swan easily tossed back. "She's new, she could as easily not be my girl."

"Because I've been in here for two years, I know your type. You've got a soft spot slash hard on for the dark, strong, silent types. That's why we can't work out, and she's your girl."

"I'm no one's girl. And, I don't like blondes." I murmured, tossing my bundle of sheets and bathroom necessities at the foot of the bed before dropping down to the wholly uncomfortable mattress.

"She's fun. I'll keep her. And, for that and my protection services, you owe me two Snickers, Coco Butter body wash, and a Red Bull." Tink stated.

"I owe you nothing, and bribing a staff member of RFP is a serious offense. I'm in charge, Bell, and you are required to do as I say." Her voice dropped to a low warning, but I sensed the sentiment wasn't sincere.

"Oh, I love it when you get rough with me. Say it again, slower." Tink sauntered up to the director, smirking suggestively.

Director Swan stared her down, then laughed, "Some other time, maybe. Mills, lunch is in an hour, relax and settle in until then. And, please remember, my door is open." With a smile to each of us, she clacked back the way she came.

Staring after her, deep in thought about the surprising woman, Tink's voice broke through my thoughts, "Hot, isn't she?"

Shaking my head, I turned on the bed and laid down, "I hadn't noticed." When she scoffed and rolled her eyes, I asked, "Is she always so..." I didn't know the words to fill in the rest of the sentence.

"Yeah, pretty much. She's cool. Don't mess with her, though. She's fair and supportive, and keeps us safe, which means allowing no funny business. If you step out of line, she'll take you down, no hesitation." When I nodded, taking in that information, she continued, "So, what're in for?"

I raised an eyebrow, but eventually shrugged, "Embezzling." I didn't feel the need to add that I didn't actually commit a crime, assuming it'd probably work more in my favor if I let everyone believe I belonged there.

"I figured something like that. How long?"

"Ten months." I found it easy to talk to the tiny woman. "You?"

"Three years, one left. Grand theft auto." Tink explained with indifference, sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bed. "So, have you got a bloke on the outside? Kids?"

I groaned, shutting my eyes, finished mapping the ceiling for the moment, "No."

"And, not interested in talking about it. Understood." I could hear her lay down, the stiff sheets rustling too loud. "I'm going to nap until lunch, then I'll introduce you to everyone. Will you be okay lying here in the quiet until then?" I could almost hear her smirk. "Good. Don't say anything hilarious while I'm sleeping."

AN: What do you guys think? Is it worth me finishing? I mean, I'll likely finish it anyway, but I still would like to know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Here's the next chapter. Thank you all for the interest in the first chapter. It's a little different than my normal style, so it's not particularly smooth, but I'm having fun anyway. Also, I don't want to make this story M, but there is a tiny bit of foul language in this chapter, and likely popping up randomly through the rest of the story, so heads up on that.

I hope you like it, have a great day!

"Alright, Newbie. Lunch time. Follow me." Tink flourished her hand in a lackluster gesture.

Pushing up from the bed, I strode out after her. We walked down the hall of C wing, which seemed relatively quiet. I scanned the few other women we passed, making mental tabs to ensure quick acclimation to my new home. When we passed a small woman with piercing, beady brown eyes and auburn hair, Tink turned to me, speaking from the corner of her mouth, "That one there is Blue. I'm not sure why they call her that, but keep your distance. She's a horny little beast. Even if you're a vagatarian, steer clear, there's plenty of other clams at the buffet." Biting back a smile, I spent a little more energy remembering her face.

"Hey, Tink, who's your new friend?" Blue drawled in a squeaky purr.

Tink rolled her eyes, then fixed her with a glare, "My new roomie. Hands off."

The unimpressive woman raised her hands in mock surrender, "Hey, ease up, pixie dust. I was just being friendly."

"Yeah, well, stop. She's with me." Tink bit back, then led me further down the hall.

I momentarily considered being worried about being claimed so readily and possessively, but decided to let it go. For the moment, Tink failed to set off any red flags, and I somehow trusted that her claim only pertained to protection. "Alright, so I'm sure Director Swan showed you, but this is A wing. The cafeteria is straight through here. Get in line, grab your slop, and sit down. Even if you don't eat, you have to come here and sit until lunch is over." She led me through the line, serving herself a large Sloppy Joe and some questionable vegetables. I didn't spare any attention to what food I placed on my tray. I couldn't eat anything, anyway.

The small blonde nodded toward certain tables as we wove our way through the chaotic cafeteria. "That's the old lady table...That there is Mal Landers, also know as Dragon, and her crew, don't sit there...That group over there is religious radicals...And, this is my crew. Sit with us. I promised the head bitch that I'd look at for you, so until she says otherwise, don't wander. Hey, ladies." When the other women greeted her, then turned to me, she pat my shoulder, "So, this is Regina Mills, my new bunkmate."

I dropped my tray next to Tink's and slipped onto the bench. Looking around, I studied the faces staring back at me. The older woman sitting directly across from me held out her hand, "I'm Leanne Dunn, but everyone calls me Grannie." I nodded at her, taking in the twinkling eyes of the greying woman.

"Grannie's in for offing a guy that was trying to rape her granddaughter. She used a fucking crossbow. So, even though she's older than dirt, we let her sit here." Tink smirked at the glare Grannie sent to her way. "Next to her is Shay Min, but we all call her Mulan. She's in for gang affiliations. But, really, she should have known better than to get mixed up with a group that call themselves The Merry Men." The beautiful, slightly butch Asian woman threw a carrot at Tink, then looked at me and jerked her head in a curt nod, but gave nothing else. "Actually, she talks about as much as you, so you'll probably hit it off quite nicely. And, lastly, sitting next to Mulan is Belle French." She offered me a warm smile, her clear blue eyes welcoming. "French is in for being part of a protest group that burned down an animal testing lab. French took the blame for the entire group, despite the fact that she was trying to stop them. Idiot."

"Why are we your friends?" French asked in a smooth, Australian accent, narrowing her eyes as she slowly took a bite of her apple.

"Because I'm fantastic. And, fucking sexy."

French shrugged and took another bite, "Eh. You're alright."

"Hey," Tink pointed her fork at the brunette. I realized that what I originally thought was a tribal tattoo around her wrist, was actually a design of tire tracks woven together. It was awesome. "Don't try to wound my ego, you know you wanted me before Mulan got here."

French smirked, "On that note, I have to go. My shift is starting early today. Inventory week, yay." Pulling her legs from under the table and standing up, she placed her hands on Mulan's shoulders from behind. She leaned over, pressed a light kiss to Mulan's cheek, then whispered something in her ear that made the darker woman blush and grin brightly. After returning the wide smile, she glanced up at me, "It was nice to meet you, Mills. The first few days are the hardest, but you'll settle. If you get bored, come see me in the library. Bye, all."

Grannie waved as French left with her tray, then glanced at me, "So, Mills, you got our stories, what's yours?"

Flashing her a quick look, I spoke calmly, "Embezzling."

"Huh, that's a rather rare one around these parts. Lots of drugs and assault and robbery, but not much white collar stuff like that."

Mulan snorted, "Don't be a snob."

"I wasn't."

"You were."

I tuned the others out as they made idle conversation, and I picked at my food. Carrots, corn bread, an apple, and pudding sat on my plate, though I had no recollection of getting them there. My thoughts whirled wildly around my head, each one distorted an indiscernible. The ones I could grasp all revolved around my frustration at being in prison, my resentment and anger toward my sister, and irritation at my inability to make sense of anything. I broke out of my jumbled contemplation when two palms came down on the table in front of me, a sultry, sweet voice speaking above me, "Hello, there. You must be new."

"I don't remember inviting you over, Dragon. Move on." Tink growled. I looked up from my plate to the tall, thin woman called Dragon. She had blonde hair, with just a touch of red. Her lips were painted crimson, and her eyes were a hollow green.

"I don't need an invitation, Tink." The woman hissed, before turning back to me, "So, who are you?" Refusing to answer and partake in the obvious intimidation routine, I bit a carrot and crossed my legs under the table. "Let me give you a bit of advice, I'm not someone you want to ignore or go up against. So, I'll ask you again. Who are you?"

Already tired of her games, I locked my gaze with hers, "That's the thing. You don't know me. You don't know what I've done, what I'm thinking, or what I'm capable of. So, _I'm_ going to give _you_ a bit of advice. Step. Away." She reminded me a little of Zelena, and that was exactly the wrong place someone would want to be with me at that moment.

What can only be described as bewildered fury swept across her face, leading her to swipe my tray away. Lowering her face even with mine, she snarled, "Listen, I-"

"Landers." A familiar voice sliced into our tense interaction.

"Director." Dragon responded snidely.

"We need to have a chat." Director Swan moved right up into Dragon's face, staring her down. "I just booked Rose in detox again. Any idea how she keeps getting Heroin?"

The blonde inmate shrugged with a innocent smirk, "Of course not, Ms. Swan."

The director's previously sparkling eyes turned dark and dangerous as she got even closer to Landers and lowered her voice, "I know you're her supplier. I will not have my girls strung out and putting themselves at risk. And, when I find proof that you're bringing shit in, I will nail your ass to the wall."

Dragon smirked again and whispered challengingly, "You wish." Director Swan's jaw twitched and her eyes stayed hard as Dragon sauntered away.

"So, you're chasing the dragon, are you, Swan?" Tink asked casually, but her lips threatened to curl up into a smile.

Instantly, her glower transformed back into the easy expression she wore when I met her, "Very cute, Bell."

"Thank you."

"You know what's not cute? How you told me you fixed the heater in my office." The director stated lightly as she folded her hands in front of her body.

"I did fix your heater, Director." Tink replied, biting into her sandwich.

"Then why can my nipples cut glass when I'm in my office?" She smirked as me, Tink, and Mulan glanced at her chest. Grannie just scrunched her nose at a limp piece of lettuce dangling from her fork.

"Well, first off, that's not an entirely professional thing to say to your inmates. Secondly, it's highly plausible that that was my intention. Thirdly, I warned you that I was a mechanic, not an electrical engineer when you assigned me to the electrical unit. This is your fault." Tink explained, sipping her water.

"Well, whatever the reason for the malfunction, get in my office after lunch and fix it properly. Bring Min, she seems to actually accomplish her tasks." Director Swan arched an eyebrow at Tink, then turned to me, "And, it seems I don't need to worry about you holding your own." When I only responded with a steady gaze, she spun on her heel, making her way out of the large room. I definitely watched her walk away.

"Well, damn, Mills. You've got fangs, I love it." Tink chuckled.

"Yeah, nice work, but make sure you're careful now that you're on her radar." Mulan added seriously.

I gave her a tight nod, internally groaning. After only two hours in the prison, I had already made drama with the top dog. Excellent. Sighing, I leaned forward, resting my forehead in my palms. Seething with a new wave of anger at my situation, I grit my teeth and stared at the table. A hand landed on my bicep, "Come on, Mills. I'll walk you back to our room. You look like you're ready for a break."

I could barely see straight as she led me back to our small room. As soon as I got inside I slammed my fists up against the wall, nearly shaking in attempt to control my rage and discontent. My life before wasn't perfect, but it suited me well. After only few hours, I missed it with searing desperation.

"Here." When I glanced over my shoulder to her outstretched hand, I saw a Snickers bar. I felt some of the tension begin to drain, the numbness returning, surprisingly welcome. "You can have one of my candy bars." Gratefully removing the chocolate from her hand, she smiled and walked back to her bed. I noticed another Snickers, a tube of Coco Butter body wash, and a Red Bull sitting where her pillow had been. "It's not all bad here, Mills."

AN: Still with me?


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